


Coincidence

by HermitLibrary_Archivist



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-26
Updated: 2008-05-26
Packaged: 2018-04-20 10:51:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4784636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HermitLibrary_Archivist/pseuds/HermitLibrary_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>by Charlotte Kelly</p><p>When do events and/or people start to mean more? Is it when meetings are no longer a coincidence? Does it matter in the end?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coincidence

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Judith and Aralias, the archivists: This story was originally archived at [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Hermit_Library), which was closed due to maintenance costs and lack of time. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2015. We posted announcements about the move and emailed authors as we imported, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Hermit.org Blake's 7 Library collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hermitlibrary/profile). 
> 
> This work has been backdated to 26th of May 2008, which is the last date the Hermit.org archive was updated, not the date this fic was written. In some cases, fics can be dated more precisely by searching for the zine they were originally published in on [Fanlore](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Main_Page).

One could say that my life was a series of coincidences. One could even say that it didn't have any meaning at all. It isn't like I have accomplished anything special, except the needless bloodshed. It would all be perfectly explainable though, if it weren't for that simple line which Vila had left us with. * It was meant to be. *

Were Avon and I destined to meet on such a desolate point in our lives, prisoners of our own misjudgment? Would we have met if I had been a ... good boy? I often wonder that, you know, when I sit here between walls of guilt. Each with its own name: Gan, Jenna ... Avon. Avon's wall is black.

But what does 'meant to be' mean? Were we meant to meet and live happily ever after, and did the universe somehow screw it up? Or did this pathetic ending fit into some masterplan? Making the others pawns in some gameOe. Makes their lives kind of pointless, don't you think? Maybe that has been the key.

"You're thinking again." His voice seemed a mixture of boredom and frustration.

"No, I wasn't."

"Don't lie to me, Blake. I know when you do that, I can hear you thinking over here. Stop it."

"Why?"

"It's disturbing my illusion of being alone, and at peace."

"We are alone. Tarrant passed ages ago and he was the last."

He remained silent for a moment. Probable didn't want to be reminded that Tarrant and even Vila have beaten us to an answer.

"It must have been my lucky streak to be stuck with you, " he finally says, his tone dripping with sarcasm.

"Now you sound like Vila."

"At least I don't sound like you. Dealing with you requires an amount of intelligence I am not capable of."

"Ah, well, you did shoot me."

That shuts him up. It always does. I don't know how long we have been here. I would have made some markings, but my walls aren't solid. Avon wouldn't allow it anyway.

"You're still thinking."

"We had this conversation minutes ago." * Every single hour it seems. *

"Yes, and I will never be free of you."

"Giving up on hope, Avon?"

"How can one give up something, one never had at all?"

"Liar." He chooses to ignore my comment.

"Don't tell me. You are mulling over your 'meant to be' theory again."

"Not really. Just, contemplating."

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"Come on, Avon. Why else would we be here?"

"Because your mind got fucked up years ago, not that it could matter to a brain that is only outmatched by Vila's."

"I am not the one who pulled the trigger."

Silence, again. We never talked about it. Well, I did talk about it, but it was a fairly one-sided conversation. Not that I mind talking. He does. Says it drives him insane. Explains a lot.Oe Hours pass, I think. I sigh.

"What now?"

"Oh, nothing."

"Yes, there is something."

"I just miss them."

"You are at a point that you would even miss Travis."

"We were never * with * Travis."

He shrugs, trying to seem indifferent, as if I wouldn't know the difference after such a long time. "You'd prefer anyone over me."

"That is not true and you know it, Avon."

"Calling me a liar again?"

I smile. "If that what it takes to get your attention."

He tries to smile back, and fails miserably. "Why are we still here?"

"I don't know." I really don't, you know. If it were logical, Avon would have worked it out by now. But it should be easy; the others understood it eventually. We are the ones that didn't.

"I thought you had all the answers, Blake."

The sarcasm doesn't sound as convincing anymore.

"So did I, Avon, a long time ago, when I was still a boy."

"Faking it?"

"On the Liberator? Hell, yes."

Now he does smile. "I always knew you were a fraud."

"But you didn't want to believe it."

"I knew it from the start. That is why I didn't follow, of course."

*Liar.* Conversation is pleasant though; it makes me take the jump once more. "Maybe Vila was right."

"Oh, do entertain me."

I glare; he doesn't mean it though. He did like Vila, as his verbal punchbag. "We were meant to be."

"We tried it several times, Blake. Our body parts fit, but that is about it."

"It was good when we were together."

"It was better without you."

"So, you did come to kill me?"

I almost think he goes into his mental hiding place again, when I hear his silent, "No."

I try to lean over, on whatever substance we are on. I can almost feel him against me. "Then why?"

He turns and looks into my eyes. "You really are blind, aren't you?"

Am I getting somewhere now? "To what, Avon? Your affection?"

"Your betrayal. I betrayed you, you betrayed me, why don't you say something about that? It is always the mistake, a miscalculation ... misunderstanding."

"I have forgiven everybody, even you."

"You never hated me in the first place."

"I was too busy being dead!"

"Then why the hell did you have to drag me in it!"

Well, it cuts our conversation short. So, he blames me for being dead. Took him long enough to admit it. Totally irrational, of course. It was just a coincidence that he died with me, a little bit later. Not that he was the one with studs digging into his flesh. Fiasco, yes, blame ... how can I?

"Avon."

"Blake, that sounds more irritating every time you say it."

"Kerr -- "

"Shut up."

"I can not help thinking it's rather idiotic that you are mad at me for not being angry."

"You are telling me what is idiotic? You, the master of idiocy? Don't, Blake."

"I am trying to find a way out of here. It was never my fantasy to be one with nothingness."

"Believed in heaven, did you?" He actually sounded interested.

"There must be something. The others passed on."

"They disappeared. Probably because they absolved into oblivion."

"You don't dissolve into nothingness with a smile on your face, calling out in happiness."

"Vila smiled at a bottle of soma. He would smile at oblivion."

"At least, you are still obnoxious in your irrationality."

"I must have picked it up from you."

"Well, you could have picked up other things," I say with a teasing smile.

"You never got in touch with my feminine side, Blake."

"I didn't realise you had one."

"I don't. It was extinguished the day I met you."

"Needed all your marbles, did you?"

"Someone had to."

I laugh, loud. It feels good to laugh, even though the sound is distorted by this place. "Avon, I really don't understand you."

He raises his eyebrow and looks at me with that * no kidding * expression. "No, it seems you don't."

"I would like to."

He sighs this time and looks at me with a more genuine expression. "Why is it, Blake, that no matter where I go, if I am with or without you, you keep on pestering me?"

I smile softly. "Because I was meant to pester you?"

The eyebrow is still raised. "I would throw something at you, but there isn't anything handy." And then he smiles, for the first time since we've been here, which is a long time.

Yes, we could pass on out of this twilight zone of past regrets, past lives, past lovers. It is over somehow ... We have to let go. I wish he would accept it, that there are some things one can not fight. Ineffability, cause and effect, love, hate, all of them, just ... happen. As our lives did. But it would mean saying goodbye. Wouldn't it?

So maybe what happened was all a matter of coincidence, maybe we were 'meant to be,' or maybe, just maybe, we are a cosmic mistake.


End file.
